I'll See You in My Dreams
by CarrieAnnB
Summary: Written in Hotch's point of view. Emily is shot and killed by an UnSub and Hotch won't stop seeing her in his dreams. He learns more about her through the dreams, and more about himself.
1. Prologue and Part One

**Author's note: **Another story involving the death of a main character. Hope y'all can handle it ;)

WARNING: I've been done with this story entirely for about three months now, maybe longer. I've been hesitant to post it because of the semi-unrealistic parts of the dream sequences. You can absolutely chalk it up as Hotch's guilty conscience for the dreams, since that's clearly what I'm heading to in the story, but some of you may not approve of the unreality of it. If your not into this type of thing, feel free to skip ahead.

Another thing I feel is important to mention is that I have already finished every chapter of the story. I'm completely done writing it. I'm going to put up chapter after chapter every couple of days or so, just so I don't post it all up at once. I hope you guys end up enjoying it, since it's one of my proudest stories. For those of you who are reading my stories that are currently uncompleted: I want you to know that I am definitely continuing those and I am not putting them on the back-burner for this story, because as I already said, I have already finished writing this one. Here goes!

* * *

**PROLOGUE:**

**

* * *

**

Of course I remember when it happened. How does anyone forget that? I hate when people asked me that. When they came up to me at the funeral, looking sad, some of them ballsy enough to ask: "Were you there?" and my absolute favorite, "Do you remember it?" What kind of question is that, anyway? If they knew I was there and they knew the story, how could they assume I'd forgotten it?

I remember Morgan coming up to me, eyes wide in horror, when I arrived at the hospital. I was drenched in Emily's blood. I remember continuously feeling Deja Vu, much like the Kate situation. I didn't bother washing my hands, I recall. Morgan shot up from his seat, his eyes bloodshot. I figured he was just horribly concerned. I was too. I thought I heard someone sobbing, but I blocked it out. It was a hospital. Anything could have happened, it didn't mean it was connected with Emily.

Morgan stumbled his way to me, an image I'll also never forget, and I noticed a tear streaming down his cheek. He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. I remember feeling frozen then. Like then, too, I was free from all emotion and any reaction. I couldn't process anything.

Morgan sucked in a breath and let out another wet breath. "Hotch, she -" He can barely speak, his voice is shaking. I wanted to shake him to get him to talk. But I knew what he was going to say. I felt Deja Vu again, right then, I remember. I remember thinking: Everything I did for Kate, I couldn't save her. Now I couldn't have saved Emily, either.

My shoulders fell and I pushed past Morgan, my feet dragging to the chairs in the corner. I saw JJ hugging Garcia. I heard JJ sobbing in Garcia's shoulder. My eyes flickered every time I blinked. I didn't know I was beginning to cry. Morgan just stood away from me, waiting a couple of seconds, before joining me. "Hotch," his voice sounds calmer, but I swore any minute he was about to break down. "They say she -" and he couldn't say it. He wanted to, but he couldn't. I knew what he was going to say. They say she went quickly, with as little pain as possible. But he couldn't. Because that was a lie. I felt a tear stream down my cheek and I remember not being able to face anything. Not JJ crying, or Garcia crying, or Reid and Rossi staring off into oblivion like statues, their eyes dark and lifeless. Or Morgan. The strongest of us all, crying.

I left the hospital. Just like that. And I went driving off into nowhere. For hours. I actually don't remember where I went.

* * *

**BEGINNING:**

Fast-forward to the funeral. I'm surprised I even made it to the funeral, the way I felt. But I felt obligated to. JJ had asked me twice if I was going; I don't remember ever giving her a straight answer. It was always, "I'll see," or, "Jack might need me." But I knew I had to go. This one thing I couldn't run away from.

The preacher spoke some words from the Bible, and everyone stood tall as JJ and Garcia tried to say a speech about her. JJ broke down sobbing, and Garcia had to have Morgan hold her to get herself together. Reid ate something and then threw up. I don't know if that was relevant to the funeral, but I'm thinking it was. Reid doesn't handle loss very well. But does anyone, really? I couldn't talk. Her mother apparently expected me to, because I was her supervisor, but I couldn't. First off, I didn't prepare a speech, and second, I felt I was in no position to do so. I'd felt completely guilt-ridden and barely came to terms with a missing team member. A missing family member, even. I remember her mother making her way over to me at the funeral, her eyes dark and maybe slightly watery. She looked cold and solemn and angry. Very angry. At me in particular.

She tapped my arm and I turned around. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Ambassador." I didn't know if I should call her that at her daughter's funeral, but I did anyway.

She nodded at me, cold and distant, then stared directly into my eyes. "You didn't speak for her," she raised her eyebrows. "I'm surprised."

I remember feeling heavy. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what to say." I don't know why I was so honest to her. Maybe that sounded rude to her; I wouldn't blame her.

She nodded again. For a reason at that moment I didn't quite get, her nodding felt very condescending. Now I know why. "Look, Hotchner," she said my last name very tight-lipped. It was obvious she felt she owed me zero respect. And at the time, I felt the same. "My daughter is dead. There's no changing that. And of course I'm not saying it's your fault. You didn't shoot her."

I remember feeling relieved, but still uncomfortable.

"But you did, however, spend the last ten minutes of her life alone with her. How were those last ten minutes?"

My throat tightened, and I was so shocked she'd asked me that, I thought I felt very dizzy. I paused and stared at her, very oddly. She read my expression.

"I mean, were they a good ten minutes? What were you doing? Saying your goodbyes prematurely? Obviously you were wasting time, because you had those ten minutes to save her life."

Right then, like a light-bulb flicking on, I understood where she was getting at. The relief I'd felt dripped off of me suddenly and I felt soaked in complete anger and hatred. Not to her, to myself.

"I tried to save her," I almost called her Prentiss, and I choked at the words.

"Look, my daughter greatly respected you. I hope you know that. I just hope you spent those last ten minutes telling her how much you appreciated her." She gave me one last glare and I remember that glare perfectly. It felt like her eyes were meeting my soul. And I remembered I hadn't. The funny thing is, I hadn't remembered those words until it was almost too late in the game. The glare I remembered. But the words, somehow, were forgotten momentarily.


	2. Part Two

I'm late for work. I know that. My radio alarm clock keeps playing early morning tunes and Thursday morning jokes like all is happy in the world. Like there isn't terrorists or serial killers or rapists. Just early morning jokes and hot steaming cups of coffee and kids playing and all so bright and cheery. I want to punch my alarm clock. But that involves effort and strength and I don't have the energy for either. Jack comes running in, bare-foot but dressed in school clothes. He climbs on my bed and then rocks the bed back and forth, making me seasick.

"Jack, cut it out." I grumble.

Jack frowns, but then smiles right away. "Daaaddy," he hits my arm. "Get uppp. You have to work."

I rub my face very hard with my palms. Yesterday was Emily's funeral. It was dreadful. I had to go to a close friend and colleague's funeral. I wanted to sleep right through it. Sleep really is a blessing, one we take for granted all too often. Matter of fact, I'd like to sleep now.

Jack rocks the bed again. "Dad!" he yells.

"Jack!" I say furiously, very annoyed. "I'm trying to sleep!"

I can see my yelling discourages him for a second, but just as quickly, he smiles and rocks it again. I shoot out of bed, throwing the comforters off of me angrily and picking Jack up, hard, carrying him into the living room. I place him rather roughly on the sofa.

"I'm not in the mood," I say sternly. "I'm trying to sleep."

Jack stays quiet this time. He just sits there, like he can't believe I just said that. I feel bad, but I also don't have the energy to care for very long. I sigh and rub my forehead, which is now throbbing. "Jack," I say softer this time. "I just need to sleep, is all. You get that, right?"

He nods but I can see that he doesn't. Kids don't get that stuff. All they see is rainbows and clouds and stuffed toys and crap like that. I stroke his back. "Hey, don't be mad at me," I say softly. I nudge him. He just keeps his eyes looking downward.

"I'm not mad at you." he mumbles. "Your mad at me."

I sigh. I'm too tired to react to this. "Jack, I'm not mad at you. It's just that..."

"You miss your friend?" he tries.

He reminds me of her, and for some reason it angers me. "No. Well, yes, but what I need is sleep."

I hear a honking outside and Jack jumps to his feet, grabbing his tiny sneakers. He doesn't bother hugging me goodbye. He just runs outside. I follow him up until I reach the porch. I wave to him, but he doesn't look back. He's definitely mad at me. And why shouldn't he be?

I crawl back into bed, cursing myself the whole way there, and envelope myself in comforters like if I bury myself deep enough, I can disappear entirely. It doesn't seem like that bad of an idea. My headache is pretty severe.

* * *

I close my eyes and fall right back into sleep. Ah, sleep. It really is a blessing. Until...what the hell is this? I find myself in the BAU. Standing amongst a group of workers whom are carrying files. I look down in fits of panic, expecting to see my flannel pajama bottoms and old gray t-shirt. But when I look down, I see my suit and tie and black leather loafers. I grip my tie, and I can't feel it. I look at my hands in terror. What the hell is this?

I notice people strolling around me, but they don't look concerned. Once I spot Morgan, I run over to him.

"Morgan!" I nearly scream. Morgan stops and looks at me like I've sprouted triplets... from my face.

"Whoa, whoa, Hotch, calm down," his eyes look part-concerned, part-surprised I'm making an ass out of myself. "What's wrong?"

"When did I get here?"

He gives me the funniest look and then glances at his watch on his wrist. "At, like, eight A.M. I don't know, after you watched Jack go on the bus. Why? What happened?"

I shake my head. "I don't remember getting here."

Morgan grips my shoulder. "Hotch, what's going on with you, man?"

I look at him. Why isn't he mentioning Emily? I really expected an, _Is this because of Emily?_ speech. But no. Nothing. I feel myself glaring at him.

"You look fine." I say.

There's that look again. He lets go of my shoulder. "Why wouldn't I?" he sounds cocky.

"Because of last night. I figured you'd all be depressed."

Morgan looks at me even stranger. "About...?"

"Emily's funeral!"

Morgan's eyes widen and he grips my shoulders with both hands now, this time rough and harsh. "Man, what the hell are you talking about? Prentiss is _NOT_ dead!" he sounds very angry about this.

"Whoa, of course Prentiss isn't dead." JJ adds, suddenly appearing into the conversation. Reid follows behind her.

"Did you just say Prentiss is dead?" Reid says, nonchalantly.

I step back. My head is spinning. I clutch it, afraid it might fall off and decapitate myself. "Yeah, you guys were there."

JJ looks at Morgan and Reid, her eyebrows and eyes shaped funny, like her concern and confusion is written all over her face. "Where for what? When?"

The questions and confusion are piling up on me like heavy textbooks and I need to sit down. Right now. The funny thing is, though I'm so confused it's painful, I don't actually feel anything physical or anything to remind me I'm even alive. I attempt to pinch my arm, but I still feel nothing.

I grasp for a chair to sit on. Eventually I pull one out from under someone's desk and fall into it.

"Hotch, are you okay?" Reid asks.

I close my eyes and barely shake my head. "You guys have got to be kidding me."

JJ looks scared to ask. "About what?"

"About Emily. About her..." I look at everyone's eyes long and hard, and I can see that they really, really do not remember her death, let alone her funeral.

"About her...? Her what, Hotch? Her funeral? Man, what are you talking about?" I can tell Morgan's becoming very upset with me. Reid looks like he's trying to figure out if he should call that hospital his mom is attending. JJ looks scared, like I'm suddenly going to pull out a knife and start butchering them.

Soon I hear the elevator click. I don't bother looking. But soon I hear her voice. "Hey guys." she announces cheerfully. I jump up so fast the chair goes flying. Emily backs away then laughs.

"Hotch, whoa, be careful," she touches my arm. At first I feel a chill, but it's only imaginary. "You okay there?"

JJ walks off, leaving me and everyone else to my insanity problem. "Your, your," I can barely make out the words. "Your here."

She nods very slowly, like I don't get it. "Yep," she smiles and wiggles her Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup. "I made a pit stop but I'm here regardless. Just a little bit late." She smiles apologetically at me like she expects me to give her a long speech about tardiness. Yeah, right.

My head is twirling with thoughts, I could actually picture it spinning in circles like on The Exorcist. I cup my head in my hands, my eyes blinking rapidly at her image. She looks beautiful, by the way. Her hair is super-dark, practically jet black, as always and is straight, the length stopping at about directly under her breasts. Her eyes are lined with little but black make-up and she's dressed typically like Emily Prentiss; her famous black boots that she often uses to kick down doors when Morgan's not around to do it. I reach out to touch her, and though I can't actually feel her arm or anything at all, I can see I'm touching her without my hand going through her or anything like that.

I can feel Morgan's eyes staring at me like they're burning holes into my face. "Hotch...what are you doing?" I understand Morgan's deeply concerned, but all I can think is, _why isn't he freaking out?_

"Can you guys see her?" I ask hysterically. I don't know why I even ask that; they obviously don't remember Emily dying. Then it hits me. I'm surprised it's taken this long, honestly. I'm dreaming. God, Aaron. I actually want to laugh at my stupidity. But the relief I feel bubbling up inside is replaced with such bewildering sadness when I see her look so sad and concerned, as she puts her small hand on my shoulder. I almost inch away like I'm going to catch a disease from a dead person touching me, but I don't mean it that way. I'm just so shocked to see her, really.

Reid's eyes widen and his face turns slightly paler. "Hotch..." he looks at Morgan then at Emily, and I can tell he's beginning to panic.

"I'm gonna get Rossi." Reid declares before stalking off. Morgan waits a second then decides to follow him, shaking his head at me like he's ashamed. I can barely speak, meanwhile. I feel like I should be suffocating. This dream looks so real. I think about taking two steps, and so I do. I take two steps forward just as easily as if it were real life. I've never controlled dreams like this before. It's surreal.

Emily stares at me, just gawking awkwardly. "Hotch..." she swings her hair over her shoulders and sighs, then touches my arm again. "What is going on with you?"

I can't explain. I can't look at her, either. "This is so weird." I mutter out.

She doesn't hear me. "What?" she asks.

I shake my head at her. Then once I glance at her, I can't stop staring. I want to touch her but I'm scared to. I'm scared she'll disappear into thin air, or slowly drift away. I'm afraid I'll break the curse. I'm just scared. Wouldn't you be?

Just as Reid said, Morgan and Reid returned, Rossi in tow. Rossi looked almost as concerned as them, or so I think. I can't really tell with Rossi sometimes. He's not very expressive facial-expression-wise.

"What's up with him?" Rossi asks coolly, like I'm not entirely losing my mind over here.

Emily shakes her head and raises her arms like she really has no clue. Of course she doesn't. I continue staring at her, for what seems like forever. She eventually notices my constant staring and then shoots me a look that tells me I'd better cut it out or I'm getting those shiny boots she uses to kick down doors in an unpleasant place.

"What?" she asks, folding her arms almost defensively.

I shake my head and look down at my shoes. I put my hands on my hips and tell myself, _It's just a dream._ I have to remind myself of this, because it really feels like I could lose myself here. I wonder if I could actually walk out of here, get in my car and fly to Tokyo if I wanted to.

"Hotch," Rossi says, grabbing my attention. I look at him. "Everyone's worried about you. What's up?"

I catch JJ's eye across the room. She won't look at me. I wouldn't either. They all think I've lost it. First I'm babbling about Emily being dead, then getting all wacky the second she steps in and then well, everything else I've done or said or not said, for that matter.

"Hotch, weren't you going on about something about Prentiss earlier?" Morgan says. I feel Emily look at me, like she really wants to know. I don't want to say. Since this is a dream, this is possibly my last chance of seeing Emily. Why ruin it with my whole going crazy issue? That could wait.

I look up at him, my face as serious as always and shake my head. "No. I don't recall that."

Reid pipes up from the back. "Uh, yeah," he looks scared to speak up, like I'm going to take away his badge. "You said something about..." he glances at Emily, who's now staring him down curiously, and then shuts up.

"About Prentiss being," Morgan squints his eyes at me. "Being, what was it, Hotch?" he keeps pressing it. I want to punch him in the face. I shoot him a death glare that everyone can see but Emily, who's standing behind me.

Reid backs off, Rossi stares at me oddly and Morgan raises his hands and walks away in defeat.

"Okay, what the hell?" Emily finally blurts out once everyone exits. I sigh. I stare at her even longer.

"Stop doing that." she says snappishly. "Seriously, what is everyone on today?" she mutters under her breath before shaking her head and walking off like nothing happened. Does she not feel what I'm feeling? Or, what I would be feeling if this weren't a dream and it was real life?

Then I wake up. I find my hands are shaking and I wasn't even aware of it. Maybe your really semi-awake during dreams. But still. This dream was entirely different than other dreams. Some dreams you remember, some dreams you never really forget; I've had those before. But this is a whole new thing. In dreams, you just sit back and watch yourself or people you love either screw up, die, or do something totally random, or maybe even do something you wish would happen in real life. But the point is, your just watching. But this dream, no, you don't watch. You control. Like I'm sucked into a video game.

I ponder all of this as I walk downstairs and pour myself a cold glass of water. My hands are still shaking from seeing her. I miss her so much. I try not to think about it.

I try not to think about seeing her again. I close my eyes and stand in front of the bathroom mirror, every light in the house shut off but the bathroom one. I'm afraid to open my eyes. I'm afraid I'll see her behind me in the mirror. Dead. Maybe she won't look like Emily. She'll look like deceased Emily. I'm scared to open my eyes, truly. I inhale and exhale, tying to calm my nerves, and then in one quick motion, swing them open. No one is there. I catch my breath. I really convinced myself she would be. I'd probably die from panic. I don't sleep for the rest of the night. How could I? Besides, it's already four A.M.

* * *

I drag my tired and exhausted butt to work several hours later. By then, it's like I'm experiencing a horrible sugar crash. Maybe I put too much sugar in my oatmeal. I thought it'd keep me awake. It didn't help one bit. I'm having one of those super-tired moments where your body actually feels kind of numb and you start slurring your words and your eyes are constantly falling closed and you have big eye-bags underneath your eyes. Just like that.

I got dressed so fast this morning, I think my tie isn't tied right. It feels funny and looks crooked. The funny part is, I don't care. Perfectionist me does not care one bit. Jeez, Emily. See what your death did to me? I approach Morgan, and am at first, struck with this idea to hide from him, afraid he'll have people surround me and put me into a mental institution. Then I remember it was only a dream, and then I stop searching for a hiding place.

"Hotch!" he calls over to me, friendly. I breathe a sigh of relief. Everything is back to normal. "Your late." he taps his wrist watch twice and gives me a cocky grin.

I nod. "Yeah, I am." I admit.

His eyebrows furrow. I can tell I'm taking the fun right out of him teasing me. I don't mean it. He can continue, if he pleases. "You okay?"

"I've been asked that a lot lately." I sulk.

"Because you look awful." he says.

"Thanks."

"No, really, you do," he frowns at me and eyes me suspiciously, like I've got a very odd substance splattered on my face and he's trying to guess what it is.

"I believed you the first time."

He opens his mouth to say something else, but can tell I'm in no joking mood (am I in one any other day?) and decides against it. Once I realize he's done saying whatever it is he feels the need to say, I drag my feet up the stairs, which feels like fifteen steps longer than I remember, and I slam my office door and fall into my chair like it's a big fluffy cloud and I've just landed in Heaven. It's what it feels like to me. Heaven.


	3. Part Three

I was enjoying my peace and quiet, until Rossi walked in, unannounced. I didn't look annoyed; I don't think I looked like anything. Maybe depressed. Oh well. My hands were clasped together, laying on my desk, and I was staring at them. I noticed something, I've noticed hundreds of times before. My wedding ring is missing. How many mistakes have I made? How could one person make so many in one lifetime? I haven't lived to be one hundred. I haven't lived to even be seventy. I haven't had that much time to screw up. How could I have done so much wrong in such a short time?

"Hotch." Rossi stood at a safe distance, but closed the door. I couldn't see him through my foggy eye sight, that were clouded over by wet sadness, but I could feel his staring. It was grueling.

"I was just getting to know her." I said solemnly, my breath catching in my throat. I took in a sharp breath and tried to exhale, but it came out ragged and tired.

"Hotch," Rossi stepped closer, suddenly becoming serious. "I know you think Prentiss' death was your fault."

My jaw tightens. Rossi was infuriating. He knows me so well, it was like I came with some handbook he studies. No one else has the guts to bother me. But he always does. It's actually annoying, but I never tell him that.

"It's not really that," I tried to say, but I was really very exhausted. But God knows I couldn't sleep. I laid back in my chair. "It's something else." I hoped he wouldn't ask. I might just tell him.

Rossi sighed and sat at the edge of my desk. I was hoping he'd leave it at that, but of course, he wasn't going to. "With everything that's happened to you, now this," he sighs again. "I'm afraid your going to cross the line."

"What line?" I mutter out. I don't have to ask, really, but I do anyway.

"You know what I mean." he sternly responds back, if I'm suddenly fighting an UnSub. Maybe in some way I am.

I let my face fall into my hands, which feel cold and cramped, like they'd been closed for too long. I think I need one good long stretch. I think I need sleep. I think I should sleep. But I can't.

Rossi tapped my desk twice and stands up, just about to exit. I heard the door creak behind my hands and I think he's left, but I hear him breathe and know I've been wrong again.

"If you ever need to talk, you know where I live." He gave me one last look and then leaves me be. I want to thank him but I don't. I just sit there for a little bit longer, dreading sleep. But I know it's inevitable. I stand up, my legs shaking from sitting so long, and I walked over hunched-back to my long leather sofa, and I collapse into it on my back. The leather is cold on my neck and it calms me down a little bit. I rest my arm on my forehead and lay back. I closed my eyes and the last thing I remember being awake, was feeling one tear warm my cheek and then I was out. Back to fantasyland. I was hoping it'd spare me one night.

And I'm back again. The dream returns. It feels so real it's almost easy to get lost into this form of reality, pretend like it's actuality. And then I think of something. Maybe it is. Maybe I'm not dreaming. Maybe the part of me that falls asleep, and goes to work is the dreamland. Then that thought makes my head spin and I feel very dizzy, or I imagine myself feeling dizzy, but I don't. Because I can't feel. Because this is a dream. Once I finally realize that again, I catch my breath. Metaphorically speaking, of course, since I'm not really breathing. Or am I? Do you breathe in dreams?

Anyway, I'm walking into the BAU. I see JJ, Reid and Morgan talking. I almost remember this day, or maybe one that was a lot like it. JJ and Reid and Morgan completely ignore me. Of course. This dream isn't about them, it's about Emily. I take a seat in the lunchroom and sit at the plastic white table, searching for her with my eyes. Then I see her. Long dark hair, long bangs and dark eyes. She's wearing a bright red sweater and dark work pants, and her famous leather black I'll-kick-your-ass boots. I jump up, nearly knocking the table off of me and run over to her. I grip her arms and I think she even squeals.

"Whoa, whoa, sir, are you alright?" She grabs onto my arms next and looks at me, deeply concerned. I smile bright because I think I can actually feel her hands on me, but I realize that it's in my imagination, because when I close my eyes and try to get lost in the feeling, to drown in the feeling of her touch as if it's a soothing bubble bath, I realize I feel nothing at all. This nearly breaks my heart.

"You can call me Hotch." I say again.

She nodded and her eyes soften a bit. "Can I help you, Hotch?"

I shake my head. But no, she can help me. I extend my arm and point to the table, and she and I take a seat at the table I almost knocked over. My hands are trembling, or they feel like they should be, and I wonder if in reality, back in my office, lost in my slumber, if my heart rate is too high, pounding heavily and loudly in my chest from panic and excitement.

"Are you okay?" she asked again.

I nodded, quick and certain. I reach for her hand, and I feel strong sadness when I realize again that I can only imagine touching it. "I'm fine. How are you?" My voice is cracking. I try to sound calm. I must look insane to her.

She nods and then squints her eyes at me. I must be hard to read. I bet this is making her so confused. "Seriously, Hotch, what's going on? Did something happen?" Suddenly I notice she's paranoid, and she lets go of my hand, her eyes widening. "You want to tell me something, don't you?"

Yes, I do, but I can't. It won't make sense. But I inhale and I nod. Her face darkens and she looks like she's ready to pass out. "No, no, nothing bad. Just..." I look over my shoulder. "Can we talk outside?"

She pauses, looks frightened, then nods in agreement. I'm glad she said yes. I figured she would, but being alone with her makes me feel better. I lead her outside and I can tell she's cold. I give my suit jacket. The one good thing about being in a dreamland: your oblivious to freezing cold weather that should be making my teeth chatter. She smiles at me and puts my jacket around her arms, hugging it close to her.

"Okay, here's the thing..." I don't know how to begin. How do I even say this? But I have to. What if this is my last visit with her? Then I start wondering why it matters if she knows. But I decide that, for some unknown and irrelevant reason, it does.

She opens her eyes and looks at me funny, like she can't hear me good.

"I'm not really here." I try. She looks super-confused now, and I'm sure her head is spinning. "Well, lemme try that again." Honestly, how do I even say this? This seems so much easier in movies.

"Hotch, do you want to sit down?" she invites.

I shake my head and try to smile. "No, I just need to say this." I inhale and exhale, like in those yoga videos Hayley used to watch, and try talking again. This time preferably in English. "Try not to lose it when I say this."

I hear her sigh a nervous sigh and I can tell she begins trembling, this time from nerves. She reluctantly nods.

I reach out and touch her arm. She doesn't back away. That's a good thing. "You, uh...well, you," my throat tightens at the memory and I try to stay calm. Focus on her touch, that's all. I try to picture actually feeling her touch and I feel instantly relaxed. "What I'm about to say will sound so indescribably insane, your going to want me committed. But remember, it's me, Aaron Hotchner," I put my hand to my heart, like that matters any. "Who never jokes about anything."

She nods slowly, processing all of this information, then nods and looks down.

"Okay. Well. Here goes." I inhale one long breath and before exhaling, I speak: "You died a while ago." Those words sting coming out, even though I'm lost to all feeling. I can almost feel the lump appearing in my throat, but still, I don't feel anything. Though I feel like I should. The fact that I'm incapable of crying actually makes this easier.

She lets my jacket slide off of her shoulders and drop to the concrete, and she looks torn between six different emotions. Anger, confusion, frustration, concern, and lastly, sadness. I can't pinpoint the sixth, really; maybe it's all of the above.

"Let me explain!" I nearly cry out, pulling her closer into me. "You died from an UnSub. He, he...shot you. I tried to..." Now I imagine myself sobbing. But once again, I can't. I take advantage of my lackof emotion and keep talking. Anything to keep from falling to my knees and screaming at the top of my lungs. Then she'll really think I've lost it. "I tried to help you, but I couldn't."

She just keeps staring at me, like I've never seen her stare at anyone before. Like I've just told her I'm an UnSub. Like I just told her I mutilated six women. I hate this look. Like she knows I feel guilty about her death. The thought that, maybe, somehow, deep inside, she does know, frightens me so much I let go of her entirely.

"And now I'm stuck in this dreamland. Every time I fall asleep, I see you. Like it's any other day. Us going to work, us together, just anything."

I finally have enough strength to look her in the eye, but she's staring at the sidewalk, her eyes not moving, not once. I'm afraid she might faint. I'll get her killed twice. I reach out to grab her, but she steps back, looking horrified. Color finally flushes to her face.

"Hotch, listen to me," she grabs a hold of my arm, speaking very slow and calmly. "You've gone through a lot since I've known you -"

I cut her off. I sound hysterical. "So then you know I'm not making this up!" I screech.

She gives me another look, this time that looks sympathetic, and holds me tighter. "- I know that that can mess with your psyche."

I want to scream. This time, I think I actually might. I hold onto her arms too, tight and hard, desperation apparent in my eyes. She must see it. "Emily." I say through tight lips. "I'm not crazy."

She doesn't believe it, though, I can see it. She lets go of me and nods, giving up. She's giving up on me. I've now officially lost her twice. My heart might actually break this time. I can imagine it cracking in half and a sharp pain soaring through my chest. She turns around and walks inside the BAU. I stand there, looking up at the sky. I'd close my eyes if I could. This not-feeling anything is actually kind of a relief. If only it'd last.

But again, I wake up. I shoot up in a fit of panic and horror, and I try hard to catch my breath, being again brought back to reality. I'm panting and sweating, and my heart is indeed racing. I look at the watch on my wrist. I've only been sleeping for ten minutes. I don't feel my heart cracking, at least not physically, but inside I swear it's breaking.


	4. Part Four

Missing my chance to tell Emily exactly what's been going on, you know, her being dead in real life and only visiting dreams (Speaking of which, when someone is visiting you in your dreams, dead, doesn't that mean they acknowledge it? Like her spirit is with me or something? Shouldn't she be aware of it, like she's haunting me?) made me very, very cranky for the rest of the day. I left my office miserably, pushing past Morgan and Reid, who kept staring at me at the corner of their eyes, half-expecting me to probably start going insane. Morgan reluctantly followed after a short pause of hesitation, and then Reid decided to.

"Hey, Hotch, where are you going?" Morgan called to me. I stopped walking, rolled my eyes and turned around to face him. Reid was nervously playing with his hands and looking up at me then back down to his shoes repeatedly.

"I'm taking off today," I decide to give an actual reason. "I don't feel very well." They must believe it, because I never leave work pretty much under any circumstance, so they know I can't be lying. And in some way, I'm really not. I haven't slept very well, I feel achy everywhere and I'm miserable. It's best for everybody if I head home.

Reid looks deeply concerned by this. "How come?" he asks; I can tell he's hesitant. "Is it because of everything... lately?"

Morgan raises his eyebrows, wondering the same thing. I try to think of what to say. Yes. But not really. What's the truth? The truth is unclear to me.

"Sort of," I reply blandly. "But I'll be okay." Or maybe I won't be. Maybe I'll truly go insane, if I haven't already, and I'll be committed. Maybe I'll start talking to a soccer ball. Isn't that what happened on that movie where a guy gets stranded with no socialization? Then it dawns on me. I'll never really be alone. Emily will always be there. This, for some reason, comforts and frightens me.

"Hotch," Morgan exhales an exasperated breath and I see I've frustrated him. "I know it's been hard. We all miss her. But you can't just lose yourself, man, that's no way to go."

I'm about ready to scream and yell at him. How dare he assume he knows what's best for me, or anyone, for that matter. I've never once butted in when he's had hard times. I've always let him figure it out for himself. He should be supportive of my insanity and let me go crazy for a little while. That's something a good friend would do. But I don't flip out on him, I bite my tongue. I understand Morgan's only helping me the best way he knows how and I soften a little.

"I'm fine," I sigh. "I just need to rest." Which isn't a lie. I really do.

Reid looks super-sad today. I think he really misses her. My heart feels achy and tired and heavy, and I feel like patting his back and telling him I miss her too. But I don't. That wouldn't be something I'd normally do. I just want to be me again, is all. I don't want this burden of being followed by Emily anymore. I wish I could tell her to go away. Seeing her is slowly killing me.

Morgan sighs, gives me and Reid a look like, what-can-we-do? and walks off. Reid just stands there, picking at his fingernails. I can tell he wants to say something. I consider asking him to tag along. A part of me doesn't want to, a part of me thinks actual human company would do me good.

"Reid, you wanna head out with me for a while?" I offer.

Reid looks up, semi-surprised, semi-relieved. He nods and walks off to grab his bag, swings it around his chest and smiles. "I'll call Rossi from the car." and he follows me outside.

* * *

Once we get situated in the car, Reid does as he said he would and calls Rossi. By the tone of his voice, which shows reluctance, I'm guessing Rossi didn't take the idea of both of us skipping out of work very well. Reid remains calm, though, like he doesn't want to upset me.

"We'll be back soon." he tries. He glances over at me and I can see he frowns. "Or, I will." he corrects himself. He then mutters something quietly and hangs up, then stares out of his window. Very quietly. Like he's afraid the simplest noise will piss me off and I'll go ballistic.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. Just to break the silence. Or to keep the conversation off of me. Both benefit me, really. "You seem kind of quiet today."

Reid pauses and looks at me as he talks. "I'm okay," he says very softly. "I just...things have been weird, ya know? We all really miss her." The way his voice changes I can tell it hurts him to talk about it.

I nod very delicately. "I know. I miss her too." but that's not entirely true. Yes, I do. But I get to see her. They don't. I think I'm taking her visiting for granted, because I just want her to leave me alone. Though this hits me, I still find myself wishing she'd stay gone.

"It's just so funny working and not having her there," he continues. He begins picking lint off of his corduroy pant-leg. "Everyday I keep thinking I'll see her sitting there, but..." his voice trails off and I hear him swallowing.

My throat feels sore, like I'm unable to speak, but I find myself talking somehow. "It'll get easier." I try, my voice sounding tired and drained. In some ways, it does. But I understand, and Reid understands, that we'll never truly get over it. No one ever does.

Reid nods anyway. "I know, I just wish the healing process would begin now."

I wish so, too. But I don't say that. I'm still trying to offer help and guidance and make him feel better, even if I can't do the same for myself. "It takes time," I insist. "It'll happen."

Reid nods and stays quiet for the rest of the ride to this restaurant I decided to visit. Even though I'm not very hungry, my stomach still keeps growling at me viciously and is now beginning to feel slightly sore from denying it food. Reid and I get a table and stare at the menus, very civil and quiet.

I choose the smallest meal on the menu and Reid chooses pasta. We hand the waitress our menus and Reid gives her a half-smile awkwardly and I almost chuckle at it. Reid always feels weird around attractive women. Actually, any women for that matter. It always makes me laugh. Even in the hardest of times.

Reid sips his water glass very silently and places it down very softly.

I don't want to be the first to talk, but I am. "So what have you been doing? Outside of work, I mean." I ask.

Reid shrugs one shoulder. "Pretty much reading and studying," he looks like he's about to start one of his rambles. "I always like learning and gaining knowledge."

I scoff. "Like there's much more for you to learn." I feel Deja Vu again, thinking somehow we've had a conversation like this before.

Reid's eyes lighten and I see a smile appear. "Actually -"

I raise my hand. "It's okay, I've heard this before." I smile at him so he doesn't feel rejected. Reid smiles back and shuts up.

The waitress brings us our food, and again, Reid smiles at her and then shoots his eyes down to his plate like he's done something terribly wrong.

"What was that for?" I ask.

Reid glances up, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed in concern. "What was what for?" he asks, obviously confused on what he's done wrong.

"With that girl. Do you like her?" I find myself smirking.

Reid looks absolutely offended. "What, no?" he says it like a question instead of a statement. "I don't even know her name. I was just -"

I start laughing, and Reid shuts up and starts laughing too.

For a second, I forget about everything else. And I actually remember, I'm starving. I begin enjoying my meal and at the end, we both pay our share of the bill. I drive Reid back to work and as he opens the car door, about to step out, he gives me a sympathetic glance. I shoot him one back. With that, Reid nods and steps out. He understands me. I think, out of all of the men, we're taking it the hardest. It occurs to me that I very well could've told Reid about everything, and I almost regret not doing so, but I pull away and head home.


	5. Part Five

I spent time with Jack once I got home. I played video games with him, made us dinner, even though I myself felt kind of nauseated, and then tucked him into bed. I kept the living room light on and laid on the couch with a book opened, my eyes scanning over each word but not really paying any attention. I was still thinking about Emily and not wanting to go to sleep. But every now and then my eyes fell closed, and I'd shoot up, afraid I'd fallen asleep, but I'd find myself wide awake in my living room. Once I catch my breath, I turn on the TV and watch the news. The news only depresses me, so I turn on a funny sitcom and try to pay attention. I consider using my fingers to hold my eyelids open. Soon I hear fumbling and I feel my body start to tighten and I begin shaking. I'm actually afraid I might see Emily. Is it really that crazy of a thought after my dreams?

I force myself to stand up, my legs trembling to the point they may give out, and I try to talk. "Is someone there?" I whisper. I swallow and try again, louder this time. "Hello? Is someone there?"

More fumbling. Then Jack, in his dinosaur thermal PJs, comes out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes. I fall to the sofa, clutch my heart and try to breathe. "Jack, you scared me." I pant.

Jack comes running over to me, his stuffed toy in one arm, his other arm wrapping around me happily and jittery, like being awake at one A.M. is perfectly normal and a great time to be exhilarated. If only I had that much energy.

"Daddy, why are you still up?" he asks eagerly. Everything's so exciting to a little kid.

I smile at him and pull him next to me. "I can't sleep," I say softly, without an ounce of concern or frustration. "I'm okay, though."

Jack frowns and then his smile reappears, just like that. "I'll stay up with you!" his eyes are gleaming. I laugh and brush his bangs away from his face.

"Aw, sorry Kiddo, you've got to sleep." I feel bad for him, because I can tell he really likes the idea of pulling an all-nighter with me. He frowns and squeezes his toy.

"But I want to stay up with you." he says quietly, like he's devastated by my saying no. I wish he'd make this easier on me. I'm about ready to give in.

"But you have school tomorrow," I remind him.

His eyes light up. He can tell I'm giving in. "I'll still make it!" he tries, in a typical everything-will-work-out kid fashion.

I smile. "You'll be too tired." Which is a very good point. Score one for me. I think he's about ready to bite, but no, he keeps it going.

"I'll call in sick, daddy," he's still smiling. "I want to be with you."

I sigh and rub my forehead. "Alright, alright, you can stay up," I raise my index finger sternly. "Only for a little while."

This excites him so much he jumps up and down and runs into the kitchen, and I hear him opening drawers and cupboards and the fridge. I hesitate, and want to say to hell with it and let him make a mess, but I get up and drag my feet to the kitchen and rest my arms on the counter. He's standing on a stool, with an ice cream spoon, digging out Vanilla and Chocolate ice cream from the container into clear bowels.

"What are you doing?" I laugh. It's obvious. I eye the bottle of whip cream and hot fudge.

"Making you a sundae, daddy." he says simply. I walk behind him and make sure he won't fall off of the stool and watch him prepare me a meal. I find this adorable. I mean, what parent wouldn't find that cute? At the end, he ends up splattered with hot fudge because it came out the wrong way and leaves whip cream on the refrigerator door, but I still have a ball helping him pour on the leftover sprinkles we had from his last birthday, when we'd made cupcakes. Sometimes, being a dad with no motherly assistance, you have to do motherly duties. Like bake. We sit down, with our sundaes and watch Nick at Nite until I see he's falling asleep. I cover him up with a throw blanket and lay down on the other side of the couch. I don't intend on falling asleep, but I do.

* * *

Soon I'm back into dreamland. It frustrates me so much I slam my fist into my desk, since I've obviously been transported back into my office. This doesn't hurt my hand, but my desk makes a loud banging noise and soon JJ comes storming in, eyes wide and she's concerned.

"Hotch, what the hell was that? Are you alright?" her blue eyes look deeply paranoid.

I nod and my jaw tightens. I'm furious. I wanted this to end. I hoped it was one of those things where if you keep thinking how badly you want it go away, it will. My fist turns bright red but still, there's no physical pain. Even though I can't feel any real emotion at all, I'm outraged.

"Hotch?" she asks me.

I nod and keep my mouth shut, or else I might go off on her. She takes this as a reason to leave me alone, nods and walks away very slowly like I'm a rabid dog.

Soon Emily comes in next. The realness of this dream hits me hard and I bury my face into my hands.

"Sir, JJ's worried about you, she sent me in here. What's going on?" she asks me, daring to step closer than JJ had.

I shake my head and put my one hand to my forehead, like I'm checking for a fever, and my other hand on my hip. "I just don't get this. At all. What do I have to do?"

Emily puts her hands together, stares at me quizzically and then puts her hand on my arm. "Hotch, why don't you just sit down? We can talk about this."

Does she remember? I don't really know. I sit down and try breathing. If I just concentrate solely on breathing, I may not lose it. She sits on my desk, very calmly, and just stares at me while I silently go insane.

Eventually I get a grip on myself, and my face finally goes back to a paler color, and loses the bright shade of fury red. "Now, what don't you get?" she asks me. Her voice is very soothing.

I sigh. How can I tell her? When I look up and meet her eyes, I feel mine watering. I reach out and cup her face in my hand. "Do you remember what I said?" I ask, very quietly.

She looks at me and I can tell right away that, no, she doesn't. I sigh and decide that it doesn't really matter, I guess. "I'm sorry, what are you talking about?" she asks.

I shake my head, still holding her face in my hand. "Forget it."

"Hotch," she grabs my hand, pulls it away from her face, but she keeps holding onto it. "Seriously, what's going on with you? Please," she's pleading with me. "Talk to me about it. I want to help."

I shake my head again. I'm so lost as to what to do it infuriates that much more. I want to slam my fist down again, but I know that'll only scare her away. I look into her eyes again, and I feel how much I care for her it's painful. It's the only thing that feels real to me. Is how much I care about her. I hold her hand tighter, wishing I could feel it. Every inch of her skin touching mine. I want it so badly. I can see something flicker in her eyes, and she almost looks as much in pain as I am.

"This doesn't make any sense to you, I get it," I look down apologetically. "I look insane."

She scoffs and then laughs and tilts my chin up. "Don't say that, please," she smiles at me a wholehearted smile. "We've dealt with plenty of crazy people. Trust me, sir, your not one of them."

I smile. At least she doesn't think so. But she would if I told her why I said that. I take that thought and bury it underneath plenty of others, letting other thoughts remain surfaced, like wanting to feel her next to me. Really feel her. But I know it's not plausible.

I try it, anyway. I stand up and actually have to look down to see if her leg is touching mine or not. And it is. I step closer, and her eyes meet mine. Our eyes are a very similar color, but her eyes are more brighter than mine. They're so beautiful. I hold her face again and I can see she's beginning to blush.

"H-h-Hotch," her voice is soft and delicate and she looks like she's feeling very relaxed, but confused. "What are you doing?"

I can't think. I can't feel anything, either, but I still have to do this. I pull her in and kiss her. She kisses me back right away. I feel so much relief and joy, or I think I ought to be, that I keep kissing her until it feels like this isn't a dream anymore. I can almost feel it. Almost. This is how it should be. I keep kissing her until I eventually wake up. And for the first time since this whole damn experience started, I wish I hadn't woken up so soon.

Like any other time, I wake up instantly with emotions I should have been feeling in the moment. I feel satisfaction for finally kissing her, and happiness for imagining how good it must have felt, and then sadness that it had to have happened this way. I tuck Jack in his actual bed and decide to head on up and actually go back to sleep. But this time it's harder. Figures. When you want to sleep, you can't. When you don't want to, you fall asleep the second your head hits a comfortable surface. I just lay there, twiddling my fingers, imagining her lips on mine. It gives me chills that are probably the culprit of keeping me awake. I feel a sensation from head-to-toe when imagining holding her. And eventually, I drift off into sleep.

I'm sent back in that moment. We're still kissing. I'm glad. I'm surprised to be brought back to this scene, though, that I back away too quickly. She shoots her eyes up like I scared her. I probably did.

She first looks confused, then offended. "Wait, Hotch," she steps on her feet, off of my desk and walks in front of it. "Your right, I don't get it. What was that for?"

I scratch my face and I try to think, but I'm having a hard time. I just want to kiss her longer. Since when did I become this sex-crazed? Way to go, Hotch. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time?" I try. Not very accurate. I never really thought about it while she was alive, and I feel sorry about that, but now that's all I've wanted to do.

I step away from my desk and walk closer to her. "I've taken you for granted." I admit, out-loud, for the first time.

Her face softens. "You have not."

I shake my head rapidly. "No, no, yes, I have." I'm being very sincere. I think she can tell.

She smiles a little. "So you just kiss me?" The way she says it, I can tell she's not angry or offended, just a little taken aback. I don't blame her, if the tables were turned, had it of not been this situation, I would've felt the same. Had she still have been alive.

I nod and laugh in embarrassment. "Yeah, I guess I did."

She smiles and folds her arms. "I guess I don't mind," she pauses and smirks. "...Not that much."

I can see she's playing with me. But instead of playing along, I don't know what to say. I don't want to fall in love with her. She's not alive! Can't I go to hell for this? Lusting for a dead person? Oh, screw morals right now. My head is doing circles it's so confused.

She frowns a little. "Hey, I was kidding."

I try to nod but I actually want to cry. "I know you were." I mumble.

She instantly looks upset. "Hey, I was only joking," she thinks she's done something wrong. "I'm not upset you kissed me."

I look up and try to smile. It takes a lot out of me, but I manage to.

"I don't think you are, I'm just...I really miss you." I admit. I choke on the words I mean it so much. God, she doesn't know how much I mean it. I bring her into me and hold her so tight. I prayed that maybe, just this one time, I'd feel her in my arms. But of course I don't. That's not how it goes in dreams. Sure, it benefits you when you dream of getting shot or killed, but times like these, I really wish I could. I'm so upset by this, but I try not to show it.

She puts her arms around me and smiles. I'm so thrilled that she's not pushing me off. Maybe she's afraid I'll flip out on her. I've been acting crazy lately, in reality and in these dreams. But I think, maybe, she doesn't want to. That warms me a little bit. I bury my face into her neck and I inhale, but I don't smell anything. I frown. I always thought she smelled good. Her hair always did, anyway. Now I can't smell it. It makes me sad again.

It takes me a couple seconds to realize she's kissing my neck. Once it dawns on me, because of course I can't feel it, it makes me want her that much more. This whole dream thing really isn't fair. At all. It's cruel, actually. She keeps kissing my neck and I keep pretending to feel it. It's so cruel, that when I wake up, I punch my bed six times and sit up, angry and hating my life and myself for deciding now, all too late, how I feel about her. I also woke up excited from the dream, which made me feel very disgusting for getting turned on and fantasizing about a dead person. A dead coworker. I hate myself so much I refuse to look in the mirror. And I also refuse to go back to sleep.


	6. Part Six

So what do you do when you can't sleep? Good question. I tried flipping through channels, watching free movies On Demand and playing poker - by myself. Nothing works. I eventually lay back and consider pounding my fist into my brain. I bet that'd stop the dreams. But I don't. Instead, in the distance, I hear my phone ring. This relieves me. Anything to keep my head clear. That, and my fist away from my brain. I fumble around quickly to answer it before it wakes up Jack. It's about 5:30 A.M., although I'm not too certain, because in an attempt to fix a crooked clock, I dropped it and broke it. I see that Reid is calling and I am silently praying he's not asking me to come into work for a case.

"Reid? What's up?" I ask right away, sounding slightly frantic.

Reid pauses and then takes in a breath. "I was just making sure your okay."

I nod and close my eyes, very relieved. There must not be a case then. "Yeah, Reid, I'm okay," I lie. I bite my lip. "Are you okay?"

Reid sighs. I can hear his struggles through the phone. I feel bad for him, really; but another part of me feels like I can't deal with this. Not right now, anyway. I hope he doesn't say too much. "Yeah, I'm alright." he says very sadly. "But I just want things to go back to normal."

"They never will be." I say very coldly. I wish I didn't say it, at the very least, not so harsh, but it just comes out so easily I surprise myself. I can imagine how much I must've taken him off guard.

"I know." he says quietly. I don't think he's offended by my honesty; I think he agrees. "I just wish it was."

"I know." But wishing isn't enough sometimes. You have to move on, plain and simple. Besides, moving on is much easier for him than it is for me. He doesn't have to see her everytime he closes his eyes to sleep. He doesn't have a reason to keep hanging on. I feel cold thinking this way, but I still find myself thinking it.

There's a long pause hanging in the air for about a couple minutes. Eventually I sigh, and this gets Reid to talking again.

"Okay, well, if your doing okay..." his voice trails off. I can see this is his way of either a) getting me to talk more or b) to hang up. I don't know which one he wants. I'm okay with either, actually.

I pause. "Reid, did you want to talk to me something?" I can tell he does.

He pauses and then sighs. I was right. "What is it?" I press.

"It's just that..." Reid is a very good talker. We all know this. Except for when it comes to opening up, then he stutters and takes minute-long pauses between each word and everything kind of jumbles out frantically. Sometimes it's aggravating. Today is one of those days it doesn't bother me as much. "...I mean, I know everyone misses her. Obviously they do. I'm not saying we're the only ones who care..."

I nod. I understand what he means, but I let him talk it out, because I feel that he wants to. "It's just that, this is very hard. I've never really lost anyone before. I mean, Gideon's left, but that was different. That hurt, but not like this."

I nod again. I take a sit on my couch and rest my elbows on my knees, hunched over and feeling the heavy weight of exhaustion. I really, really need a good night's sleep.

"I mean, at least when Gideon left, I knew he was okay. Or I hoped he would be, someday. But this...she's really gone." his voice cracks, but I think he regains composure. I admire him for his strength. I didn't know he had it in him. "She's really, really gone, Hotch."

I feel this strong sadness wash over me like a big wave, and it covers me whole. I feel even more tired and yet I know if I really tried right now, I wouldn't be able to sleep. I picture Emily's last minutes on Earth and I feel a rattling feeling of guilt and emptiness and just the plain and harsh feeling of missing her. I know Reid feels it too. In some way, Reid and I get each other. Even long before this situation. This situation kind of binds us together, quietly, but I think we can both see it.

"Reid..." I begin with intentions of spieling off words that I hope would be reassuring to him, but once I say his name, I realize I'm so lost in thoughts and memories that I don't actually have any idea in hell what I'm going to say. Nothing will make this better, anyway.

He waits for me. "Yeah?" he finally asks.

I inhale a sharp, long breath and try to exhale as calmly and softly as I can. Then I decide, for the very first time, to speak honestly. "I've been having dreams."

Reid understands this. Reid's had nightmares before. "Me too."

First I pipe up, excited and relieved. The thought that maybe he's been seeing her too makes me feel less guilty for some reason. "Really?" my tone totally changes. I sound so happy it shocks me.

"Yeah," but Reid's tone stays deflated and burdened. "I keep picturing her laying there... it's horrific."

My breath catches in my chest and it's almost a struggle to find it. I never saw that. I don't know what I'd do if I had to see that again. "Oh my God, Reid," I breathe out. "I'm so sorry."

Reid swallows very loudly and I can hear the sadness, so strong in his tone it makes him sound deeper and very less Reidlike. "Yeah, I mean, it's only happened twice, but still. It hasn't happened in a couple of days though..."

I feel my shoulders slump and I almost feel myself truly deflating, like a balloon dwindling down to nothing. I shouldn't feel saddened by this, but I really am. "Oh...so the dreams are gone?"

"Yeah, pretty much." he then sighs, distressed. "But who knows if they'll come back?"

"Well, see, with my dreams...I keep having them. Every single time I go to sleep. It never fails."

Reid pauses, probably considering this rationally. "How do you mean?" he eventually asks. He must've tried figuring out a solution, but couldn't. This disappoints me even further. I deflate once more.

"I mean, I keep having dreams. But they're a different kind of dream. I can't feel anything or any emotion or pain or anything, but I can control everything." I realize how crazy this sounds, but I trust that Reid knows me too well to know I'm not making this up. So I keep explaining. It's easy actually, once I got started. "Like she's there, every time, Emily is, and I can say whatever I want to her and she reacts like it's real life."

Reid stays quiet. It scares me a little bit, but I keep talking. "So...what do I do?"

Reid inhales. "Every night?"

"Every time I sleep. Night or day."

Reid takes a long pause. The fact that even brainy can't figure out what's wrong scares me so much I feel shaky and queasy. "What do I do?" I ask him again, my tone sounding very shaky and almost girly. Sometimes it gets like that when I'm getting hysterical.

"I don't know, Hotch. I mean, do you really think it's like Emily's spirit visiting you through your dreams?" The way he says this is kind of accusatory, like I'm all of a sudden talking to God or demons or consulting spirits or something. I try not to get offended. I don't think he meant for it to sound that way.

"No, I never thought that," I fidget in my seat uncomfortably. "That's kind of crazy, don't you think?"

"Well, do you actually think it's Emily contacting you from the dead?" The calmness in his tone relaxes me a little bit. Like we're not talking about me talking to a dead person, but rather discussing the weekend's weather forecast.

"No." I reply dully. "She never once brought up her being dead or anything like that. In fact, I told her."

Reid pauses. "You told her?" he sounds appalled.

"Yes, I told her, in my dreams."

"That she's dead?"

"Yes." I clarify very boldly, like I'm not ashamed. It's an act though, because I'm very ashamed. The thought of me waking up hot and sweaty after dreaming of her kissing my neck makes me feel dirty, and I try not to think about it.

"Wow. How'd she," he pauses, maybe feeling weird for asking, and hesitates. "How'd she take it?"

I try to not think of the absurdity of this whole situation. "She thought I was insane, obviously. Wouldn't you?"

"I don't think your insane." Reid states confidently. I want to hug him. For the first time, I actually want to hug him. I don't think I'll ever get to tell him how much that simple line comforted me.

"Thanks, Reid." I say sincerely.

"No problem." I can tell he's flattered by my thankfulness. Reid gets flustered by such simplicity. Someone appreciating him lights up his entire mood. "Now, have you slept?"

"Not very much. I either wake up horrified from the dream or frustrated or -" I stop myself in my tracks.

"...Or?" He prods.

I sigh, ashamed. I decide to be honest - again. But this time, this honesty stings. "Or...happy."

"Happy?" He doesn't sound surprised.

"You know, just happy to have seen her." Okay, well in some way, that's not a lie.

"Well that's understandable," he almost sounds envious. I want to tell him that he shouldn't want this. But maybe I'd be jealous too if I didn't understand it completely.

"I haven't slept very much at all. It's wearing me down, Reid."

Reid sounds very sympathetic. I'm not usually the type of guy who likes sympathy, it's annoying, actually; but today I welcome it. I think I deserve it. Only a little bit. If he buys me a dozen roses or something, I think that's pushing it and not only that, but a little funny. And not in a ha-ha way, but in a, I didn't know you felt this way about me, and quite honestly, it's creepy so stop it.

"So what do I do?" I ask again, this time practically yelling it.

"Well...maybe your conscious won't let you forget her until you forgive yourself."

"Forgive myself? For what?" I ask. Although I already know.

"Come on, Hotch. We all know you blame yourself for this. You blame yourself for everything."

I find myself defending myself on this, although it's the cold hard truth. "I don't blame myself for everything. That's exaggerating."

"No, it's not." Reid states, almost sternly. It surprises me how much he's positive. I decide to let it go and get back on track, to what really matters.

"So once I forgive myself, she'll be gone?"

Reid sighs. He sounds sad. "Maybe. It's worth a shot." he pauses, exhales. "Uh, Hotch, can I ask you for a favor?"

"Go ahead." I figured he deserved at least that. He'd helped me a lot. I really need a friend right now. Preferably an alive one.

"Can you, uh, tell her that I miss her?"

"Reid, she won't understand. She looks at me like I'm crazy when I blurt out stuff like that."

"I know, I don't mind." his voice sounds deep and hoarse and sad. "Just, tell her, please? Tell her that I always thought she was funny and, you know, tell her all of the things I never had the guts to just say."

I nod. "I will, Reid." And I actually intend on doing it.

Reid's voice cracks again but he remains calm. "Thank you. Now try to get some sleep."

I decide I have no choice but to. "I will. I'll see you soon, Reid."

I think he's about to ask me if I plan on returning back to work anytime soon, but he doesn't. I'm glad, since I really don't know. Maybe my lack-of sleeping will kill me first.

"Okay. Take care of yourself." and I know he means it. I agree to that and we hang up. I head upstairs, set my alarm to wake me up twenty minutes before Jack's school bus arrives so we can talk over cereal and oatmeal like we do everyday, and then crawl into my bed. I know I have to get fairly soon and that makes me under pressure, which makes it very, very hard to sleep. But after I mutter a few cuss words and readjust my pillow for the three-hundredth time, I fall asleep.

* * *

I'm back to dreamland. I appear in a bar. This time, as if this whole thing couldn't get any weirder, I arrive in an actual memory. The whole team is at the bar. Morgan's dancing with girls, Garcia and JJ are laughing over drinks and Reid's attempting to flirt with a waitress. I think he's failing. I feel bad for him and consider helping him out, but when I see Emily step out, I get completely distracted and flustered. Her dark hair looks so shiny I have to try very hard not to reach out and stroke it. Her dark eyes stand out so boldly and when she finds JJ, she pulls her into a big hug, her smile bright and she's laughing. I'm so glad I can't cry. Otherwise, I'd be breaking down. She didn't deserve to die. She was so happy. She then pulls Garcia into a hug, and they exchange inside jokes and she then goes over to Morgan, playfully poking at him, and then walks by Reid and touches his shoulder. He acknowledges her appearance, half-smiles then goes back to the waitress. I feel bad for Reid. I bet he'd react differently had he have known she'd be dead three months later.

When she approaches me, she smiles big and bright. I try to remain still. "Hotch, why aren't you dancing?" she jokes.

I smile a very sad smile. I can feel it. It feels heavy and it takes effort to smile at all. "Not really my thing."

She playfully nudges my arm. "No, really?" she asks fake-surprised. She then fake-gasps. "I had no idea!"

I try to laugh, but I can't. I'm not here to have fun with her. I'm here to get rid of her. I feel bad about it, but I try not to think about it. I grab onto her arm and lead her to an empty table, hidden behind all of the commotion and music and people. We're completely alone. I try not to think about her kissing my neck. I really, really don't want to wake up again with a little surprise...

"Can we sit down for a minute?" I ask.

She narrows her eyes at me, immediately suspicious then nods. "Yeah, sure, absolutely. You okay?"

I pull the seat closer to hers and sit down. "I just have to say something. Before you say anything, I need you to listen."

She nods.

"And really listen. Just listen. Don't talk until I'm done. Okay?"

She nods again, this time her smile fading into a frown. "Yeah. But your worrying me."

"Don't be." I reassure her, flashing her a half-hearted smile. "Just listen."

"I can do that." she agrees, looking like it's a struggle to stay positive. I don't blame her for mildly freaking out. If this was her acting this way with me, I'd feel the same.

"It's important that you hear me out," I begin. I inhale, look down at my hands and try my utmost to make sense. "We all love you, Emily. I mean, really love you. Your like our family member. We're having such a hard time -" I cut myself off. I remind myself not to mention that she's already dead. I was about to say, We're having such a hard time with you gone. But I decide to change it. "- Such a hard time telling you how we really feel. Because let's face it, none of us are really good with emotions. But I can promise you this,"

I take her hands in mine and I stare her directly in her eyes. I feel like it's my last chance, for some reason. "That we will always love you. You'll always be our family member. There won't ever be a time when we hear the name 'Emily' and don't think about you and your big dark eyes and your jokes," I smile another sad smile. "Or your laugh."

She smiles too, but I can tell she's weary.

"Anyway," I realize I'm dragging this on. It sounds dumber than I wanted it to, I decide. "Reid also wanted me to tell you that he..." what do I say? "That he misses you."

She furrows her eyebrows. "How is that possible?" she laughs. "I work with him pretty much everyday."

I shake my head and smile. "I just had to say that. He told me to. He loves you and misses you. We all do."

Her smile falls and she looks moved by this. Confused, but moved. Moved is good, I tell myself.

I hold her hands tighter. I can't feel it, but I know she can. I look as hard into her eyes as I possibly can. If this is her spirit I'm talking to, then dammit, respond with something like, I miss you guys too! It's not your fault I died, Hotch.

But I can see she's terribly lost. I look down at our hands, which remain entwined.

"I just needed to say that." I inhale a long breath. "You mean so much to all of us, God, Emily, I can't even say how much. And you didn't deserve to go like that. No one does, but especially not you."

"Go like... what?"

I pause and my eyes widen. Dammit! I've said too much. Now what? "Just... never mind that. Just, do you hear me?"

She nods quickly. "Yeah. You all love me." she smiles. "I've always known that, though. I love you guys too." She touches my arm. "You too, Hotch."

I smile. I've wanted to hear that. But still, it doesn't make me feel any better. I take her hands into mine again. "I hope you understand why this has to stop."

She looks at me, puzzled. "What has to stop?" she looks very skeptical. Suddenly it doesn't matter if I make sense. Maybe deep inside of this Emily, is Emily listening to me, the Emily that understands.

"I have to stop seeing you like this," in my dreams, I meant. "It hurts too much. I miss you too much. How can I get over it if I'm always seeing you?"

Now she looks about ready to have me committed. "I'm so lost, Hotch." she admits tiredly.

"I know you are." I force a smile. "I just had to say that. That and," I try to breathe, but I forgot, you don't breathe in dreams. It's all imaginary. "And it's not my fault."

"Not your fault?"

"If something ever happens to you. Or, you know, anyone. I need to stop blaming myself automatically."

She smiles at this. "I one-hundred percent agree." I can tell she means it. My body relaxes. If Reid's theory is accurate, this is my last time seeing her, because it feels like I've truly forgiven myself.

I stand up and lift her up, and pull her so hard into me I feel I might crush her. Then I kiss her. Really kiss her, even though I can't feel it, I swear I almost can. The kiss is so passionate and alive and real, it almost feels like she's really there.

She pulls away eventually, catching her breath. Her eyes are glistening. She stays close to me, in my arms. She feels so nice in my arms like this. I try not to think of all the times I could've been holding her just like this.

"What was that for?" she asks, almost breathless.

I smirk. "I've been thinking about that all the time lately." I suddenly feel disturbed. Like I'm beginning to wake up. I feel scared, like she's slipping away. "Did you hear me before? About Reid missing you and loving you?"

She nods, concerned again. "Yeah, but I still don't get why you say he misses me -"

I cut her off. "Just understand that for me." I kiss her one last time with such force I almost bite her lip. I collide my nose and forehead with hers and we stay exactly like that, frozen, until I wake up. I jolt up thirty minutes after my sleep, looking at my digital clock on my nightstand. I'm not waking up breathing heavily or depressed or really much of anything. Funny thing is, my first thought is, that I read somewhere that when you dream, it's really only thirty seconds or something like that. I wonder what I was doing asleep for thirty minutes.

But once I grab a piece of skin on my arm and pinch it very hard, and I cuss out-loud, realizing I'm really awake, the realness of everything hits me. I feel so many emotions it's overwhelming, pouring over me like thick cream in a coffee cup. Sadness, loneliness, happiness. The one thing I don't feel is guilt.


	7. Part Seven

**Author's note: The last chapter! Hope it was a fun and exciting ride for you guys! xoxoxo**

**

* * *

**

I stumble out of bed and call Reid, right away.

"Hotch?" he answers.

"I saw her again."

"What happened?" he pipes up.

"I think I," the reality of the situation hits me. Harder than I expected. I thought I'd be thrilled, but now I feel so strongly depressed I could cry. Figures. "I think we said goodbye."

"How? What'd you say?" he pauses. "Did you tell her I miss her?"

"Yeah. She was confused, but I told her. I told her you love her."

"You did?" I can hear how happy this makes him. "What - what did she say?"

"That she loves us too." my voice cracks and I can barely speak anything at all. This makes Reid so happy, and it's making me so incredibly sad.

"I can't believe it. So...is it really over?"

I blink repeatedly. "I think so. I don't know. I haven't tried falling back asleep."

Reid sighs. "Then try and call me back." he practically demands.

"Okay." I mutter and hang up. I'm not really focusing. I'm thinking about not ever seeing her again. About how much I've wanted this to end and now that it has, it's so devastating because for the first time, I really have to let go and move on like I'll be okay. I head downstairs and fall on my couch, putting my head in my hands. I hear soft feet on the wood floors. I'm not scared. I know it's Jack and not Emily. Although my heart does race a little, up until I see his little feet standing beside me.

"Daddy?" he asks softly.

I put my hands down and smile. "Hey buddy, your awake? You don't have to go to school until an hour and a half from now."

"Yeah, but I heard you talking." he looks worried. "Did something happen?"

I scoop him up and sit him on my lap. "No, nothing happened. Daddy's fine." I reassure him, taking his toy that he's always dragging around in my hands and cuddling it's furry softness in my palms. I can see why he likes it so much, it's so soft.

"You look sad." he insists.

I shrug. "I'm just..." I look into his eyes and decide not to lie. I think he can tell when I'm not telling the truth. I wonder how many times he's seen me lie. "I'm sad about my friend, Emily, being gone. That's all." I force a smile. "I'll be okay. Eventually."

Jack half-smiles. "I know you will," his eyes are super-shiny once the sunrise starts peeping in through the half-open blinds. "Because you always have me, daddy. I'll always be your friend."

A lump appears in my throat and I try to smile. It's funny how children can be more wise than you sometimes.

I ate breakfast with Jack and watched him go off onto the bus and then I got dressed or work, intending on sneaking up on my team members. But once I finished tying my tie, I decided against it. At least not until tomorrow. I had one last thing to do. But before doing so, I called up Reid and invited him along on my last quest. I was glad when he said he'd love to.

Reid and I pull up and walk over to Emily's tombstone, which is shorter than most of them and doesn't say nearly as much as it should. Like, Has the most amazing smile you'll ever see. The most expressive eyes. The most likable personality. The best sense of humor. It just says her full birth-name and birth-date and stuff like, _Lovely daughter and friend to many_. It just sounds so...blah. Reid brought flowers.

"What should we say?" Reid looks skeptical.

I inhale, then look at him. "Do you really believe she can hear us?"

Reid pauses. "I'm not sure...I hope she can."

I hope she heard and felt everything in my dreams, too. But I have a strong feeling we'll never really know. "You know, in my dreams, I kissed her." I admit.

Reid looks up at me. First, he looks shocked. Then his face softens and he smirks. "Really? How was it?" The way he asks that he sounds like he feels funny even thinking it.

"I couldn't feel it, because I was, you know,"

"Dreaming," he declares for me.

"Exactly. But it was still amazing." I try to ignore the sadness that's building up not only in my throat, but in my mind and even in my chest. "I just wish I didn't wait so long."

Reid shrugs. "At least you got the chance to. Think about it that way. At least now you know."

That idea makes me feel less sad. I actually smile at him. Reid and I stand there, very silently, staring at her grave for about twenty minutes. Eventually it starts raining and we head off, where I drop Reid off of at work.

"You coming?" Reid asks, standing outside of my car.

I pause, ponder it then shake my head. "I'll be in tomorrow. I just have one last thing to do."

Reid looks like he's about to ask, but decides against it, and then nods and walks off into the BAU.

* * *

I drive, about two hours out of my way, to the hotel her mom is staying at. It takes me a long while to weasel her hotel room number out of the desk-clerk. Eventually I use my FBI badge to get inside.

When I first see her mom, she looks less than extremely annoyed to see me.

"I know I'm the last person you want to see."

She doesn't disagree. I didn't expect her to. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't think it were true.

"But I need you to know something I might've neglected to say when Emily was alive, and believe me, that will forever haunt me. But I love your daughter. Notice something?" I say. She raises her eyebrows expectantly. "I said I love her. Not loved. Because we all still love her. And I'd give anything to see her again, alive and well. But if I could do those last ten minutes over again, I'd only change one thing. I'd tell her exactly what she means to me. I hope you know that I tried my hardest to save her. I wouldn't leave her side."

She looks down. I think she's about to throw me out, but she doesn't. I'll handcuff her to the bedpost if I have to.

"Your daughter was everything a woman should be. Funny, beautiful, strong and independent. She was sensitive and open-minded and never judged anybody. She was honest, to-the-point when she needed to be and refreshingly bold sometimes. She was selfless and would crawl her way to the end of the Earth if it meant saving someone else."

"I know my daughter." she responds.

"Then you know at least that she died saving a victim. You know what she said to me after she got shot?"

Her mom barely flinches, but I can tell she wants to know.

"She asked me, 'how's Kathy?' The victim. I tried to tell her not to talk, that she needed to relax, but she demanded to know if she was shot too. I told her she wasn't, and that she was alright because Morgan found her." The words are hard to say because I, too, am realizing what an amazing person she truly was. "You should've seen her face. The relief when she found out she was okay."

Her mom breaks a little, and she begins to cry. I don't know what to do. She then begins sobbing and I do all that I know how to help. I hug her. She doesn't push me away. Because I think she finally understands what she means to me.

That lasted for about twenty-five minutes. She regained her composure and to my surprise, thanked me. I drove home and laid down for a nap. I lay there, frightened and almost excited. You know those things in your stomach they call butterflies? I had those. Fluttering around. I close my eyes. And nothing. She's gone.

Once I wake up from my super-long nap (three hour nap! I hadn't slept a full hour in days.) When I wake up, I rub my eyes. Once I realize that the dreams have officially ended, I lay back and think about each and every one of them. In some way, they were important for me to see. Though the dreams made me miss her that much more, it also made me love her much, much more. I felt a tear stroll down my cheek, without acknowledging I even wanted to cry, and I realize it's the first time I actually allowed myself to miss her. I think about kissing her and her kissing me and it's all too much and too painful, but it's also amazing and incredible and somehow, it gives me strength. It makes me laugh to think that even in dreams, I still don't understand love.

* * *

**Author's note: **I hope it was worth reading! Thanks for reading guys! XOXO -Carrie.


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